Internal Musings
by twi-fic luver
Summary: After the rescue; memories and reflections of their time on the island . . . and a change of heart is in order.


**Disclaimer: I didn't write _Lord of the Flies._**

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**Internal Musings**

_The officer guided us all to his ship, where we slowly regained fragments of our lives prior to the creation of the scar. After washing up and sitting down to a banquet of dried potatoes, powdered eggs, and powdered ice cream, we all felt somewhat replenished. I avoided the others for the most part, but was forced to bunk with several once the sun went down and the officer assigned us to sleeping locations._

As I lie in bed, I hear a voice that seems hauntingly familiar, but, at the same time, very strange and unlike anything I have ever heard before. "Ralph? Where do you think we're going?" The sound trembles a few times, and then is silent.

I feel obligated to reply, but I do not want to stoke his temper, as I am still quite afraid of what will become of all of us. I know his capabilities but am not sure why he is hiding behind the pretense of a weakling. I respond cautiously, with—I hope—no trace of hidden anger or conflict.

"I don't know. Tomorrow we must sit down and talk with the captain of this vessel to learn of its destination and what will become of us."

I marvel at the situation we have found ourselves in: here we are, back to square one, and I am once again the leader by default. The conch, so long symbolic of the strength of the bond between the role of leader and two of the oldest boys on the island, is gone; so too is the one who originally identified it as such.

Piggy, oh Piggy! I feel as if I could have prevented his death somehow. Perhaps if I had been a better leader or not a leader at all, he would have stepped up to the plate and managed everything so much better than I ever could have. What if the choirboys had never shown up? Would this horrid little world we have created for ourselves make any more sense?

My brain continues in overdrive, but to no avail. As my musings inevitably lull me to sleep, I hear a faint, "I'm sorry, Ralph. So sorry."

~~. . .~~. . .~~. . .~~

I do not understand what has happened, yet I do know that I hate myself. All I wanted was to protect the rights of my people, including the freedom to fend for and support themselves, through hunting and warring with the other tribe on the island. I should not be cowed by the appearance of the grownup, as I had effectively assumed the role of one ever since we'd landed on that accursed island.

I was the one who demanded order. I defied the pressures of my fellow leader and his advisors as a mountain stands strong in the face of severe weather. I never shirked from my one duty as chief: to ensure the survival and well-being of those who consented to my rule.

Somehow it all went wrong.

Simon disappeared, Piggy was killed, and then the fire started. Not the signal fire—this one threatened all life as we knew it. The atmosphere around the island was so dark and smoky, while the air was scorching. Sparks danced across our skin like little devils tossing malevolent remarks into a cauldron of sins. I felt as if the fire was stripping away all that I was and revealing my deepest, darkest secrets and insecurities for the entire world to see. In that moment, I was more afraid for my life than I ever had been and most likely ever will be.

I remember running faster and faster, sprinting aimlessly, hopefully toward the edge of the forest, so I could save myself from the all-consuming flames of the inferno. I forgot about Ralph, about Samneric, about Roger, about every single other person on that island. As a matter of fact, I wasn't even thinking at all! Everything was instinctive up until the smoke cleared and there we stood—facing a grownup.

As he gazed upon us, and we upon him, his countenance revealed an experienced, omniscient air. One time he asked who was in charge. Something held me back and didn't allow me the chance to step forward to announce my own superiority, or rather, what was once a position of power held in the face of common terrors. Now that I think about it, these "terrors" were so insignificant. After all, who cares about a so-called "beast" when life puts other typical, mundane issues in the spotlight, such as choices relating to school? I don't know why I didn't step forward back there, and now it's too late to say anything.

I think to myself and finally come to a decision. I choose not to be difficult—today. I question my former equal as we lie down in preparation for sleep. It turns out that neither of us knows where we're going, but we plan to obtain this information, as well as what we will have to do to get there. I close my eyes and wait for my personal guide to wherever we're going. My friend and I stay together, both physically and mentally. I acted so dumbly by abandoning him on the island, where anything could have happened to him without anyone knowing.

Until we are rescued by our families, I plan to stick with him for every step of the way, so neither of us will ever be alone with our own thoughts. We will face whatever challenges the world wishes us to—_together._


End file.
